Questions of Merit
by skywolf666
Summary: Morgan was sure Falchion had rejected his hand, and despite Lucina's gentle words that he still remained a prince of Ylisse, still was the son of Chrom and Skye... The insecurities simply kept on piling up, one after another. When faced with a family he thought he could never stand up to, Morgan wondered if perhaps he was nothing more than a disappointment. ChromxMorgan. (Fam/Rqst)


Morgan had always known he had inherited his mother's abysmal luck, there were too many instances now to count to prove it, but he was rather certain what he had just done easily proved he had one-upped the army's tactician in at least one thing. His father hissed a little as Morgan carefully applied the soothing herb concoction he had fetched from his aunt a few minutes ago, and the young tactician winced in apology as he continued his work on his father's burnt leg. He still couldn't believe it had happened, but he knew without a doubt he had put that burn there, and he mumbled under his breath as he began to tie the bandages about the wound, "I'm really sorry, Father..."

"It's nothing to worry about, Morgan." Chrom reassured him with a shake of his head, but he knew better than to again stress that his son had no need to attend to his wounds. Morgan had shown he was every inch his mother's son, and Chrom had never won a battle against his wife yet. There would be no arguing with the navy-haired youth no matter what he tried to say, and so he had sat back on the crate he had been using as a seat and allowed the aspiring tactician to dress the injury as best as he was able.

"I set you on _fire_. During _sword practise_." Morgan pointed out with empathetic disgust, and he shook his head as he ran through the incident in his mind's eye again to figure out how it had been done. While he was equally as skilled at swordplay as he was in sorcery, he had been nervous about crossing blades with his father after witnessing him and Lucina sparring so many times. Even knowing that Chrom had been holding back for him during the battle, when his father had advance with the intent to disarm him, Morgan's hand had flown instinctively for his belt where his tome had made its home in a fitted pouch. He hadn't meant to activate the fire spell, but the magic had responded regardless of its caster's intent.

Fighting a smile at his son's indigence, even if it was somewhat well-earned, Chrom couldn't help but note just how much he sounded like his mother with his sarcasm. It wasn't often that he heard his son speaking cynically, his unending optimism was as refreshing as it sometimes could be seen as eccentric, but he had a tongue that could easily let blood if he had the mind to use it in such a manner. Reaching out, Chrom ruffled his son's hair lightly as he reminded him in a softly exasperated tone, "You set my trousers on fire, not me. Anyone would call that a rather large, and extremely important distinction."

Pulling a face at the attempt to soothe him, Morgan mumbled something noncommittal but said no more in answer. He had a feeling his father would only continue to stonewall his attempts of self-deprecation, and as much as part of him wanted to hear that it wasn't his fault, he couldn't let what had happened slide. It was one thing to be wounded in battle, but training was meant to be a usually harmless affair that ended with exhaustion and soreness, nothing more. Adding to that fact that it had been his own father he had wounded... it only made him seethe with anger and shame.

Ducking his head underneath his father's touch, Morgan tied the knot of the bandages firmly to ensure it stayed in place. He could see the torched fabric of his father's trousers to prove that Chrom was right, he had burnt far more clothing than flesh, but it did nothing to soothe his feelings. Lately when it came to his father, to his bloodline, he was feeling more and more inadequate, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. He had proven already Falchion would not answer to him, and though Lucina had assured him that it did not make him any less of a prince, of Chrom's son, it had been a terrific blow to realize his father's blade did not recognize him as it did his sister.

Compounding that shame was his persistent lack of memory, and he had been warned off no less than four times from four separate people to stop trying so desperately lest he actually hurt himself seriously in his attempts. While his family had varied from gently exasperated to carefully stern in their warnings, Nah had been the final straw when she had threatened in no uncertain terms to eat him if she caught him slamming his head against any sort of object again. While he knew that they were only so worried out of love for him, both familial and romantic, he still felt a failure every time he looked upon his father and sister and could not recall the better days he had to have spent amongst them.

Not realizing he had fallen silent, Morgan was jerked from his dark thoughts when his father's hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed. Looking up in confusion at the kind touch, he saw honest concern in Chrom's eyes before he was being asked in that warmly kind voice that he had instinctively known even when he hadn't known the man it had belonged to when they first met, "Morgan, what is it? Are you hurt, maybe?"

Seeing that he had worried his father again, Morgan jumped upright and shook his head vehemently from side to side. While he was tired, it was more mental fatigue than physical. The sparring session had been short before his mishap, and he hadn't had the time to sustain any injuries. Hastening to reassure his father but not entirely sure how, Morgan answered with the first words that popped into mind as he raised his hands to further ward off the concern, "N-No, I'm not hurt! I was just... duelling with unpleasant thoughts."

For the ghost of a moment, Morgan was sure an inexplicable smile had crossed his father's face, but it was replaced with a thoughtful expression before he could really make sure he had read it properly. Leaning back on his hand, Chrom raised an eyebrow as he examined his son, and he spoke slowly, almost as if he was forcing himself to be conversational rather than something else when he repeated Morgan's words, "Duelling with unpleasant thoughts, eh...? Is that a phrase you picked up from your mother, by any chance?"

Frowning, Morgan was further caught off guard by the question he hadn't expected to hear. The words had simply appeared in his mind and out of his mouth before he had been able to think of it, but he had judged them right once he had said them. Still, he had never heard his mother using such turn of phrase before whenever she was struggling with darker musings, and he replied honestly if with some puzzlement, "N-No... I don't think so. I've never heard Mother say something like that before..."

"It sounds a little familiar. I wonder who you picked that up from." Chrom commented with a little shrug, but that strange pleased light had returned to his eyes for another moment, and left Morgan even more confused than before. He wasn't sure why, but he was certain that his word choice had been somehow perfect for his father, and he made a mental note to bring it up to his mother when they studied tactics together again. The look was gone before he could note on it, and there was concern back in his face as Chrom repeated his first question again, "What's on your mind, then? I'll be the first to admit that I'm probably not the best person to go to for advice, but if you do have something ailing you, I'd like to know what it is. You are my son, after all."

The words were kind, and though Morgan had initially no desire to speak what really was on his mind, he found himself voicing his troubles before he could think twice about it. The way Chrom had claimed him so errantly had triggered something in him that he couldn't contain, that he didn't _want_ to contain, and he blurted out even as his mind screamed at him to say absolutely nothing, "Am I a disappointment, Father?"

The second the words were out, Morgan instantly regretted them and wished he could turn around and flee. Any and all sense of warmth had fallen from his father's face once he had spoken, and a dark shadow passed over in its place. The change of expression was terrifying, and Morgan wasn't sure if he was more afraid of his father at that moment than anything else that the world possibly held in its deepest of recesses. It was far too late to take them back however, and he could only stand in mute silence for the wrath he knew he had triggered by speaking aloud.

What his father next said was the last thing he had been expecting, and Chrom pushed himself up from his seated position and to his feet as his hand strayed to his blade and gripped the hilt of it in a firm and deadly grip. His voice was quiet, eerily so in its calmness and deadly intent, and his sea-blue eyes were stormy as he asked his son flatly, "Did some fool tell you that, Morgan? If so, name the coward now and I'll do well in ensuring they'll regret having said anything of the sort about any son of mine."

The fierceness in his father's voice both scared the wits out of him while comforting him immensely, and Morgan floundered for words to such an unexpected reply. He had never imagined his thoughts would have provoked such anger, and he wasn't entirely sure if he had the courage to say _he_ was the fool who had suggested the idea in the first place. He had never seen his father so mad before, and knowing that it was on his behalf was, again, comforting and severely frightening.

Morgan knew however if he remained silent instead of naming the "culprit", his father likely would charge into camp with that exact same expression, and he hated to be the one explaining to his mother why Chrom was so furious. The mere idea of being on the receiving end of both of their tempers made him choose the lesser of the two punishments, and he hastened to explain as he saw his father tensing to do just as he feared he would, "N-No one said it! It wasn't an insult I heard, so there's no need to go storming off to find them! I-I just... I just thought that... I was..."

"A disappointment?" Chrom finished for him quietly, and Morgan flinched as if the words held true physical weight behind them. His temper cooled somewhat as he understood he had no suicidal fool to put to rights, and he forced himself to breathe deeply and evenly in order to further ease the anger inside of him. Morgan's face was a mask of an equal mixture of shame and pain, and knowing that he had to be partly responsible for putting such emotion there, Chrom collected himself and forced himself to relax his posture to better look less intimidating.

Morgan stood rather small and silent in front of him, looking for all the world like he was expecting a beating, and Chrom further forced his emotions down as he tried to understand what could possibly cause his son to come to such a ludicrous conclusion. He had seen nothing but amazing feats from the boy who had come from the future, and he could no longer imagine life without him having an essential role in it. Skye had said more than once, and with honest conviction each time, that she would not be at all surprised to be surpassed by him one day, and Chrom had to admit that he believed her.

It was difficult for him to pick his words carefully, but he wanted complete and utter understanding over what had placed such a thought in his son's mind, and so Chrom let the silence stretch between them as he searched his mind for what best to say, and how to say it. He didn't want Morgan to think his anger was now directed at him, as he knew for a fact he had badly startled the aspiring tactician without meaning to in his earlier outburst. "Why... do you think that you're a disappointment? Can you tell me exactly what happened that made you think so, if no one else put the thought in your head?"

Wincing despite himself, Morgan wondered how he could possibly start to list everything that had become a weight on him without his real notice. They had seemed to be so small, tiny things that he hadn't paid much attention to, but by the time he had realized he was struggling so hard under the feelings of inadequacy, he hadn't known where it had truly originated from. Swallowing down the knot in his throat, Morgan studied the ground underneath his boots as he wracked his mind for a way to begin, only for his mind to once again surge forward without his consent, "I-I don't remember you, for starters. No matter what I try, and I'm sure I've tried almost everything, I just can't remember you or Lucina... and I'm no prince. I don't act anything like Lucina does, and I couldn't tell you anything that it'd take to be a noble. Even Falchion seems to know I'm not good enough, since I can't wield it. I mess up everything I do, and when I do succeed, it's not really all that notable. When you compare me to Lucina... to everything she's done, everything she's working to accomplish... I have to be a disappointment."

Frowning deeply, Chrom struggled to find a response to such a speech. He had never expected to hear such a thing, especially from the mouth of the youth who made optimism a near art. Morgan himself seemed shocked by what he had said, which eased him somewhat as he knew that somewhere inside of him, Morgan wasn't truly sure he believed it all. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he almost wished Skye was with him to say something to their son.

The dark-haired tactician never seemed to lose her footing for very long, no matter the situation, and Chrom was certain his wife would have had a crushing and rather easily spoken answer for her son's explanation. To his irritation however, she was nowhere in sight and he was on his own, and he wished he had her talent for words as the silence became too much for him, and he had to flounder for words to begin to reassure his son's worries, "Morgan... I... Look, I will be blunt with you, I'm not very good with words, so I'll have to ask you to bear with me... But everything that you've just said... Morgan, it's the most foolish thing I have ever heard. Comparing you to Lucina... it's a rather useless thing to do. Of course you would be nothing like your sister, and I never expected you to be like her. You are _you_, not Lucina."

Morgan's brow furrowed, and he looked as if he was ready to reply, but Chrom cut him off by shaking his head and raising his hand in a silencing gesture. He continued steadily, feeling more confident now as the words came more easily to him as he found the points he could drive at without much difficulty, "Starting off with the fact that you don't think of yourself as much of a prince... The same could be said of me, and of Lissa. Neither of us act as many would expect royalty to, and to be frank, I'm rather certain we've begun taking an odd sort of pride in that. Your mother is something of a princess herself now, and she absolutely loathes it whenever someone tries to remind her of that. She threatened to take her sword to me if I ever called her that, and considering I have some attachment to my head, I've promised not to. Royalty as we are, all of us, even you have to admit we are probably the worst example of the actual image of nobility in almost all ways save character."

The frown darkened in response to such an argument, but Morgan seemed actually lost for words, which only prompted Chrom further on as he found the rhythm he needed to pick apart his son's speech with better ease and understanding, "And as far as I have seen, speaking only as a commanding officer, you are quite an accomplished soldier. You blend your mother's tactics and your natural fighting skills seamlessly, and you have an ability to warm an atmosphere much like your aunt can with your presence alone. You are as necessary to the army's success as any one of us is, and we would be sorely bereft without you. You can fight much better than you think you can, and you've well lightened your mother's load since you started helping her with her duties. There's no reason for you to doubt your skills."

"B-But..." Morgan tried to argue further, yet the words died in his throat under his father's kindly stare. He had never heard his father lie before, and he believed completely that Chrom was not the type of man to pander to another's ego just to be kind. Anything he said he simply said because he believed it to be truth, and Morgan knew full well that must mean his words were not hallow flattery. Accepting them however was difficult, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat that was formed with denials and disbelief uneasily.

"You could never be a disappointment to me, to your mother, or to your sister, Morgan." Chrom reassured him gently, and with a firm hand, he pulled his son in close and hugged him tightly against his chest. The tactician didn't move for a moment, startled, but all too quickly he was returning the embrace fiercely, needing the comfort as much as Chrom was willing to give it. Smiling at his son's worries even though it hurt to see the usually so optimistic boy struggling, Chrom ruffled his hair as he reinforced his words firmly, "You're my son, and I'm proud of you."

"You have to say that. You're my father." Morgan's voice sounded somewhat choked, but any of the heat and venom that such sarcasm should have held didn't exist in his words. His eyes were smarting, but he refused to let himself cry as dual sensations of relief and shame continued to tear at him from the inside. Everything he had been worried about hearing had been refuted, and though part of him still struggled to take the compliments, he trusted his father enough to outright deny them.

"Maybe so, but that doesn't make it any less true." Chrom pointed out with an errant shrug, and he pulled away to watch Morgan awkwardly duck his head before he dashed a hand quickly over his eyes. The gesture was rather familiar, and he wondered how such a young man could easily resemble both of his parents in such equal measures, yet still not see the resemblances. His voice was light as he mused with a hint of a chuckle, "You and your mother are the most stubborn of people I have ever met, you know that? I don't know what it is about the two of you, but you really can't take a compliment to save your lives."

Smiling a little at the gentle scolding, Morgan lifted his head and met his father's kind stare. He knew full well his mother was her own worst critic, and he admitted to never truly understanding how she could give herself so little confidence after everything she had already managed to do. He hadn't thought much that he did the exact same thing, though he was well aware Lucina had copied that habit almost completely.

Leaning back against the crate as he allowed his bad mood to lighten under his father's kindness, Morgan couldn't help but point out with a chuckle of his own, "But aren't you the same way, Father? Mother always says that everyone's worst critic is their own, and she usually uses you as her first example."

"With herself as the second, no doubt." Chrom shot back good-naturedly, and when Morgan didn't dispute it, the older man couldn't suppress another laugh. Skye was definitely not the type to sing her own praises, and her children had followed her example. He could imagine however the brunette tactician was not pleased to know that, as he knew he certainly was unhappy by their lack of self-worth. He knew them both to be strong of will and of character, and he was more than proud of them for it, even if they couldn't see it themselves. "While I'll give you that neither your mother and I are very kind to ourselves, even you have to admit we have an eye for seeing the skills in others... So, you could do with listening to me when I reassure you that you aren't a disappointment. Do you hear me, Morgan?"

Letting out a quiet sigh, Morgan closed his eyes as he again fought the urge to disagree. He had never seen his father be beaten before, not by anyone who wasn't his wife, and Morgan was well aware that he was no match for his mother, either. He was in no position to believe he could win any argument he got into with his father, and with a wry smile, he finally lifted his chin and met his father's stare. He didn't have to fight to put a smile to his face, and he agreed much more easily than he thought he would have had to when he spoke aloud, "I hear you, Father."

"Good." Chrom nodded once in satisfaction at the positive answer, and he sat back down on the second crate beside his son without any preamble. Reaching forward, he lightly punched his son in the shoulder before pulling him down to sit next to him. He scolded him lightly, fighting to keep the laughter from fully invading his voice as he reminded him, "And should you find yourself duelling with unpleasant thoughts again... Come and talk to me. After all, you aren't the only one who does such things... and sometimes good company is all you need in order to win that particular battle."

Surprised, Morgan turned to look at his father's knowing smile, and he laughed as he realized just what had caused that strange look of satisfied mirth from beforehand. His chest felt warm at the understanding that what he had said had been an unconscious mimicry of his father, a memory that he did not recall, and against that heat his insecurities became a little less imposing. Even if it was such a trivial thing, it meant the world to him, and he grinned as he promised wholeheartedly, "All right. It's a promise."

Pleased beyond words to see that he had done his son some good, Chrom ruffled Morgan's hair with a fond hand until the young tactician laughed and tried to duck away from the affectionate gesture. He fully endorsed the thought that his son was much more suited to smiling than to frowning, and to know that he had been able to help him in his moments of trouble was priceless to him.

Leaning back on one hand, Chrom allowed himself to relax lazily as the cool autumn breeze made its way through the camp. Morgan sat peacefully by his side, a content smile on his face, and father and son said nothing as they enjoyed the rare moment of peace. The war seemed far away from them all of a sudden, and they listened comfortably, lazily, to the sound of their comrades milling about with their chores and other activities all about them.

A little laugh from somewhere in front of them brought them both back to the present, and both opened their eyes to see Skye and Lucina standing between tents with mirrorlike smiles on their faces. Skye had her arms crossed, and though she was trying her best to look scolding, the laughter in her dark eyes couldn't be disguised. Lucina wasn't bothering to even try to hide her mirth at catching her brother and father being lazy, and her smile was bright as she waited for her mother to jump onto the chance to scold them.

Skye didn't disappoint, and she began with great relish and obvious amusement at their equally startled, and somewhat guilty expressions, "And here I thought I would find the two of you hard at work in sword practise... It goes to show how little I actually know about men, eh? Well, seeing as you're obviously not bothered to attend to your usual schedule, I think it'd be fair to deny you both your dessert ration tonight at dinner. The captain and his son at the very least should be setting a good example for the rest of the camp! Don't you agree, Lucina?"

"Completely." Lucina agreed with a nod, and her smile grew as her father and brother exchanged a horrified look at the idea of their punishment. It had been common knowledge that Gaius had been press-ganged into being the one in charge of dessert for the camp that night, and it was safe to say that everyone was excited by the prospect... save for the thief himself. The threat was lofty, and while both of the males knew Skye wasn't actually as cruel to follow through with the threat, they didn't relish the thought whatsoever.

Lucina proved herself just as mischievous as her mother however as she piped up after allowing the threat to really sink into the men of her family. She turned to her mother, pretending to ignore their shocked expressions as she asked with as much seriousness as she could muster while fighting her urge to giggle, "Should I perhaps send word ahead then to the mess tents that they have two less servings to concern themselves with, Mother?"

"Yeah, go on ahead." Skye agreed nonchalantly, and she thoroughly enjoyed hearing Morgan spluttering in protest, and Chrom's look of shock at her decision. Lucina, for her credit, only managed one little snicker before she turned on her heel and sprinted off, leaving her family behind without a second glance. Her smile broadening as Morgan stared after his sister with a look that could only be described as heartbroken, Skye waved a finger in what she hoped was an admonishing gesture as she scolded them, "You two should know better than to slack off, even if you are princes. Being nobles doesn't exclude you from keeping to your training regimen!"

"But Mom, we weren't slacking off!" Morgan hastened to clear his name, and he looked beseechingly at his father for support. Chrom seemed unable to find his words, but he did nod to give some credence to Morgan's plea, and that allowed the youth to continue in what he hoped wasn't too childish an argument, "We did do a little training, but Father got hurt, so we took a break! And even then, we were talking the entire time, so it wasn't as if we were doing nothing!"

"Really?" Skye raised an eyebrow in question, and her smile flickered a little as she looked from one pleading face to the next. Morgan nodded fervently, and Chrom looked both embarrassed yet hopeful, which didn't do much for Skye's attempt to come off as disdainful rather than understanding. Yet, her eyes were known to be eagle-keen for a reason, and a quick look at her husband proved that Morgan was telling the truth, even if she had no cause to really doubt him.

Still, the melodrama was thoroughly enjoyable to her, and while she knew she was being mean in toying with them by threatening their dessert... Skye couldn't help it. She was a woman of few pleasures after all of her duties were accomplished, and teasing her loved ones was always at the top of that list. She was an accomplished mischief-maker, her son had inherited that streak from her, but even her love for play was tempered by the knowledge of how far she could push and when it was time to ease up.

Shrugging her shoulders as if she had finished weighing her decision, Skye gestured towards the route Lucina had taken with an errant flick of her hand. She grinned at Morgan, her eyes bright with teasing and challenge as she told him with a cheeky giggle, "Well, if you can catch your sister before she tells the soldiers in the mess tent to leave out your portions, I guess I'll rescind the punishment... but you better move fast."

The words had scarcely left her mouth before Morgan threw himself off of the crate and hit the ground running, and before either she or Chrom could say a word about it, their son disappeared amongst the tents with a look of frightening determination seared on his young face. The look, combined with his immediate flight without so much as a word was too much for Skye, and she collapsed where he had been seated laughing, her slim form shaking uncontrollably as she tried to speak through busts of raucous giggles, "Oh gods! That was impressive! I don't think I've ever seen him move that fast! Remind me to tell Gaius that he's not the only one in camp with a sweet tooth!"

"That was rather underhanded of you. He was telling the truth." Chrom tried to sound as disdainful as his wife had just moments ago, but the effect was ruined by his mirth at what he had just seen, too. Skye was using the crate by him to support herself, and she was laughing so hard that her breathing was hitched and tears were brimming in her eyes. Shaking his head, he joined in her laughter as he turned his gaze to the tents where his children were likely chasing each other now.

Even with her lengthy head-start, Chrom knew that Morgan would catch up with his sister without much effort. As light on her feet as Lucina was, Morgan had proven himself the faster of the two many times before, which was probably why Skye had allowed Lucina to leave and waited so long before letting Morgan chase after her. That was not lost on Chrom, and he had to admit his wife had too much fun teasing the people she cared about.

However, as he watched her finally regain control of herself and hop up onto the space beside him, he also admitted that he didn't much find it to be a problem. It was one of the many ways she showed her affection for those she loved, and she didn't have a mean-spirited bone in her body, which made it easy to accept being on the opposing end of her gentle pranks and teasing. Chrom had lost count of the times he had learned that Skye was actually the one behind such things that had brought the Shepherds together in both romantic and platonic ways, and he knew the rest of the camp was just as aware of it as he was.

Shaking her head as her laughter died away, Skye turned from the tents to look at her husband properly. The bandaging about his lower leg was tied rather securely and professionally, and she was rather impressed by the handiwork that she knew had to have been done by her son. From the width of the wrappings she also surmised the wound wasn't all that serious, but all the same she reached out to gently set her hand on his knee as she nodded towards it and asked gently, "Are you all right?"

"It's just a little burn." Chrom replied with a dismissive shrug, and he settled his hand overtop of hers as she squeezed his knee with obvious relief at the admission. She did however look a little confused at the words, and he explained with a small chuckle before she could question how he had been burned during sword practise of all things, "Morgan didn't mean to, but he accidentally cast a fire spell while we were sparring. He caught more fabric than leg, but he insisted on treating me anyway. Did a good job of it, too. I didn't know he was interested in healing."

"Nor did I. I'm sure we can thank Lissa for that." Skye commented with a thoughtful shrug of her shoulders, and she shifted a little so she could rest comfortably against her husband's side as they sat together. He immediately draped his arm about her to pull her closer, and with a smile she snuggled up as best she could into him in answer. Peeking up at him through her bangs, she offered him a smile when he glanced down at her before continuing curiously, "So, you two were talking? What were you talking about?"

"Before or after I was set on fire?"

"Remember that there's more than one type of dessert that I can deprive you of tonight, Chrom."

"You are merciless today, aren't you? Fine, fine..."

**AN:**

**-giggles a bit- This was seriously not what I had planned out in my head, but I guess that doesn't much matter. This be my second art-trade that I've done with Mi-chan, and I have to say, there are probably going to be a lot of others to follow. That girl has some wicked artwork that I just salivate over, and she seriously deserves a lot more recognition than she's getting... and better literature than I can possibly write in exchange for a piece! She requested some love between Chrom and Morgan, (who surprisingly don't get a lot of fanfiction written about them for some odd reason) and I was happy to oblige. It was supposed to be funny all the way through, and that really was my intent, but... somewhere along the way, I had to make it serious. I turned on the funny at the end, mostly because I seriously wanted to end it on a high note, but... well, I'd understand if it looked awkward.**

**I also originally intended for Chrom to tell, or show, Morgan that he could actually wield Falchion if he so decided to, but I eventually tossed the idea out. Why, I can't tell you, but... Well, it didn't seem like the right place is the only excuse I can give for that particular bit being omitted and/or ignored.**

**Morgan, of either gender, is seriously one hell of a character who needs more love in any and all mediums... and I sincerely love the flexibility they give me as an author. While there's little evidence to support it, I do think Morgan has taken some notes out of Inigo's book in terms of being a Stepford Smiler... and as this Morgan is Lucina's little brother in this bit of canon, I do think there are plenty of opportunities for him to feel extremely inadequate next to his big sister. Of course, those are all really lousy reasons that Chrom manages to refute, and I just hope I wrote it well enough to make it seem somewhat believable!**

**Anyway, I hope this was up to your standards, Mi-chan, and I can't wait to keep working with you! I haven't had this much fun with online friends for years, and you really have brought a lot of my former enthusiasm as both an author and a gamer back to me! :3**

**Drop a review below if you feel the desire, and please, check out Michiru's profile in FFN and DA! That girl needs so much love it's almost criminal! -huggles for everyone-**

**Mood: Happy**

**Listening To: "When Can I See You Again" - Owl City**

**~ Sky**


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